


Stay

by mudgems



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk Loki (Marvel), Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, King Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Norse Bro Feels, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Self-Indulgent, Siblings, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Grandmaster doesn't either, Thor (Marvel) Feels, Thor (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thor is having a bad day, Valkyrie Does What She Wants, Whump, don't look at me, i know what i am, just let them hug you cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudgems/pseuds/mudgems
Summary: "I think I've broken your brother," Valkyrie said.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> I had this mostly written before seeing Endgame. I came away from the movie all the more determined to post it. This is for you, Brodinsons stans.
> 
> PS You can now find me on Tumblr as [mudgemsfic](https://mudgemsfic.tumblr.com/).

Thor was used to the lack of privacy on the _Statesman_. The quarters he shared with Loki were perhaps on the more generous side compared to rooms that by necessity housed make-shift families several members strong, but they were by no means large. The ship was a working beast designed for cargo haulage, not leisure. They were lucky to have any amenities at all.

The demands on a king’s time were also very rarely his own, as Thor was discovering quickly. His every moment belonged not to him but to his people, a revelation that even being born a prince had not quite prepared him for. 

And so it was only with a sigh of quiet resignation that Thor received the Valkyrie, her aggressively cheerful intrusion loud and brash at his back.

“I think I’ve broken your brother,” she said as the door slid closed behind her, and Thor allowed his eye briefly to close. 

He was tired. And he had work to do. This was the last thing he needed.

He knew of Valkyrie and Loki’s semi-regular bouts, of course. He suspected the still simmering animosity that underlaid their tenuous alliance found outlet through more formalised encounters, and anything that helped ease tension on the ship and avoided its passengers coming to blows Thor was all for. And they were well-matched sparring partners. If their practice was sometimes a little rough Thor was not going to interfere. He had subjects enough whose welfare concerned him; his council members -- his friends and his family -- he was content to allow to mind their own affairs.

Whatever injury Valkyrie had managed to inflict this time must have been enough to warrant a confession, but even Thor doubted she would so blithely announce anything of a truly serious nature. That fact alone was enough to stir the small sense of admittedly unwarranted resentment Thor had been nursing these past weeks. While he threw himself into his duties and struggled to bear the new weight of responsibility now resting upon his shoulders, he couldn’t help but feel aggrieved to know that the others felt it that much less. 

And here was the evidence that selfish part of him crowed to hold aloft. _Look, you see? Too busy making a nuisance of themselves to pay you any mind. They are at play while you toil. They will never take this new position as seriously as you always must_. 

The headache that had been threatening all day began to make itself known. He didn’t have time for this.

He turned from the manifests laid out before him, a stern and disapproving lecture of regal authority ready to flow forth. His mouth was only halfway open when he froze, alarm flashing through him with an immediate chaser of remorse. 

Valkyrie stood resolute and unashamed, her hair slightly mussed but otherwise in order. In her right hand dangled a bottle, its contents sloshing as she brought it unerringly to her lips. And at her side slumped Loki, his head hanging and body swaying, his arm slung across Valkyrie’s shoulders and held there by the force of her grip alone.

“What happened?” Thor demanded, rising to inspect the damage. He ducked his head to assess Loki’s face, brushing his long hair to one side and probing the hairline for splits. He could see no blood or marks, but Loki’s eyes were unfocussed and half-closed. When Thor withdrew his hands, Loki rolled his neck to rest his head against Valkyrie’s shoulder. 

“There is no injury, Your Majesty.” Valkyrie took another pull at her bottle, and as she lowered it again she took a involuntary, lurching step backward, Loki stumbling in her wake.

Loki released a snuffle of sound at this which could have been laughter, and the Valkyrie produced a lopsided smile in response.

Thor couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Are you _drunk_?” he demanded hotly.

“ _I’m_ drunk,” Valkyrie replied without a trace of embarrassment. She raised the shoulder beneath her burden, lifting Loki slightly with it. “ _He’s_ something else.”

Thor could not remember the last time he had seen his brother in such a state. Certainly not since their youth, and even then only rarely. Loki was not one to overindulge in drink, and if anything was usually the one to scorn Thor’s fondness for the vice. He couldn’t imagine what would have caused that to change now.

The righteous irritability returned full force, although the glare Thor levelled did little to cow the woman before him. She raised her chin at him, followed by an eyebrow, and even despite her obvious inebriation managed to appear confidently defiant. 

“Set him down over there,” Thor told her wearily, indicating Loki’s bed with a flap of his hand, the other moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. The space behind his remaining eye was throbbing now, and he imagined would continue to do so for some time. 

There was a soft _oof_ and the sound of something heavy hitting the mattress, and when Thor turned it was to see the Valkyrie grinning down at her handiwork. Loki lay sprawled on his back with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He made no move to right himself and simply lay there, his eyes closed.

With a deep and fortifying breath, Thor moved to look his brother over, and when Loki made no further sound or movement, dropped to perch next to him on the bed. The dip jostled Loki though he did not stir. Thor lifted Loki’s arm by the wrist and let it drop. It hit the bed with a thud but elicited no response. Thor sighed. 

“How much have you had?”

Valkyrie twisted her mouth in a parody of thought and let her eyes wander to the ceiling. She began to count off each drink on her fingers. “Well, first there was the wine, if you can call it that. God-awful stuff, but it improves by the third bottle. Then there was the Vanir ale. Been saving it, you know? Never know when we’ll find any more, if you know what I mean.”

Thor felt a frown form between his eyebrows. Loki did not even _like_ ale.

Valkyrie carried on, unconcerned. “Then there was the home brew. Several bottles of that. Bit rough around the edges, but just like papa used to make. I’m really going to miss it when it’s all gone.”

If there was anyone aboard skilled in the art of spirits distillation or the manufacture of mead, Thor was yet to find them. Yet another piece of Asgardian heritage lost to Hela’s destruction, along with the knowledge, experience and centuries-honed skill of far too many of his people. 

“Then there was whatever this is,” Valkyrie continued, scrutinising the bottle still in her hand. She swilled it around a little, gave it a what-the-fuck facial shrug, then downed what was left. She tossed the empty bottle to one side without a thought as to her surroundings and corrected her wandering balance. “I think that’s about it.” 

He supposed it should come as no surprise that the Valkyrie could handle a greater quantity of alcohol than his brother, though whether through age or experience Thor could not have guessed. He was still having a hard time imagining Loki working his way through such a list, however.

“Oh,” Valkyrie said before Thor could voice these thoughts. “And then there was the orange stuff, obviously. No idea what possessed him to go for _that_ out of everything, but I guess since I clearly wasn’t going to touch it he wanted to make a point.”

Apprehension raised a cool line along Thor’s spine. Was she suggesting…?

“Wait, hold on,” he said, almost afraid to ask. “Are you saying he only had _one_?”

Valkyrie gave him a look like he was slow. “That’s what I said, didn’t I? _This_ \--” She waved a hand loosely at Loki’s inert form. “--this is courtesy of the Grandmaster’s special brand of twisted fuckery.” She raised a fist to her mouth, punctuating her declaration with a poorly stifled burp.

Thor squeezed his eye shut and gave his head a shake. This was a conversation he very much did not want to have. “I still don’t… Explain, please.”

The huff of irritation Valkyrie made at this suggested to Thor there was more to the story than she was quite prepared to give, and that by pushing the point he was going to come up against some formidable defences. Thor braced himself for battle.

“It’s really not that difficult,” she said, pitching her tone to belligerent. “There was drink. He picked one. It was the wrong one.”

“Yes, but _why_?”

There was a pause that contained more than just silence. “He lost a bet.”

Thor dug the tips of his fingers deep into his eye. “About?”

Valkyrie simply smirked. “Doesn’t matter. Upshot is, I won.”

“And your prize was the chance to poison him?”

It was the wrong thing to say, but at this point Thor was more interested in finding a direct route to an explanation than dodging Valkyrie’s mercurial moods.

Valkyrie’s bearing shifted instantly from amused to casually dangerous, and she took a step forward into Thor’s space, pressing an insistent finger firmly to his chest. “It’s not like that, all right?” she challenged. “His forfeit was to take a drink with me. That’s all. The point was to get him to _loosen up_.”

Thor needed only to remain silent to communicate what he thought of her results. For a moment he thought she might rise to the unspoken criticism with a display of aggression (it would not be the first time she had resorted to physical violence when contradicted, Thor’s status be damned), but she only scoffed at him and backed up. “Not my fault if your brother takes offence at the slightest barb. Anyone else would have just picked an ale. Had to go for the riskiest of the lot, didn’t he?” 

“And you let him.”

“Hey, I didn’t _let_ him do anything. I don’t make his choices for him.”

“But you knew what it was and you didn’t stop him.”

Valkyrie’s face hardened still further. “Listen, I didn’t know for sure. Guessed, maybe. Anyone stupid enough to take a chance on the Grandmaster’s special stash knows the risk. Lackey knows that too.” 

“That’s still no excuse. You should not have baited him to it.”

Valkyrie did not look in the least chastised, but she did not deny Thor’s accusation, either. She did at least have the grace to avert her eyes.

The damage was done now, whatever the true story. And Thor was under no illusion; Loki was answerable for this as well. The example they set for others on the ship should be one they took more care with, and when the pair were in a frame of mind to better feel the force of Thor’s disapproval, they would know the full extent of his displeasure.

For the moment, Thor had more immediate concerns. Not least of which was what to do with his incapacitated brother.

He was considering how best to manoeuvre Loki into a position more suited to his intentions when movement at his back brought his attention around.

Valkyrie had pushed off from the wall she had been slouched against and was making her way towards the door. “He’s all yours,” she said as she went. “Enjoy.”

“Wait, you’re leaving? You’re not going to help?”

“Fuck no.” She lent a hand against the door frame and slapped its control panel with the other, her head turning over her shoulder just slightly as she did. “Maybe get him to drink something,” she suggested, her tone a little softer. “Water, I mean. And to eat, if you can.” And with that parting advice, she stepped unsteadily out.

“You’ve been a great help,” Thor called after her as the door slid closed at her back. If no one else around here was going to resist being childish...

Thor turned back to regard his brother still laid out on the bed. He dragged a hand slowly down his face. 

Loki certainly didn’t seem to be in any danger. If anything he appeared obliviously relaxed, and Thor found his concern ebbing and his anger creeping back. He had work to do. He had neither the time nor the patience to nurse his brother through a self-inflicted stupor, no matter how unintended it was.

When this was done, when Loki was recovered, they were going to have a serious talk. They were going to talk too about the heavy leathers Loki had taken a recent affinity for, and in which he was currently garbed head to foot. 

It was a relatively simple matter for Thor to remove Loki’s boots. He took no particular care to be gentle, tugging each free to deposit haphazardly on the floor by the bed in a manner Loki himself would not ordinarily have tolerated. If his brother prized the condition of his possessions, Thor thought, he could damn well tidy his own clothing.

Next to go was Loki’s armour, though why he still insisted on wearing it aboard the ship Thor had yet to discover. Thor himself had long since begun dressing in less formal wear, hoping to strike a balance between the image of rule and readiness he must project for his subjects, and the assurance and ease more relaxed attire could inspire.

“Are the vambraces really still necessary, brother?” Thor complained in a mutter as his fingers worked the buckles and loosened straps, releasing Loki’s forearms from their grip. These too joined the rest on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

Far from being roused by this, Loki remained as he had been throughout, motionless and silent where he had fallen, apparently unconcerned by Thor’s efforts. If Thor was to manage much more than this, he would need more cooperation from his brother than he was currently receiving.

He stood back again to assess Loki’s condition and frowned to himself.

A small vanity area adjoined their sleeping quarters, and although water was not a resource entirely without its limits, their stores were plentiful enough to allow bathing facilities within. At least for the time being. All piped water on the ship was however recycled, and lukewarm at its coolest. It certainly was not fresh. But it was drinkable, and at this point Thor cared little for his brother’s delicate palate. 

After filling a pitcher at the basin and retrieving a cup, Thor set the items on the table beside the bed and considered how best to go about this.

He began by shaking Loki’s shoulder. “Loki,” he called firmly as he did so. “Wake up.” His brother’s head lolled from side to side, but Loki did not otherwise respond.

“ _Loki_ ,” he shouted a little louder. “I know you can hear me.”

Thor then tapped Loki’s cheek briskly, still to no avail. Losing patience, he considered the glass and the pitcher speculatively. The temptation was strong, and he decided he was not in the frame of mind to resist. He picked up the pitcher, held it over his brother, and dumped its entire contents all over him.

Loki sat bolt upright with a gasp and a sputter and was only prevented from toppling forward by Thor’s restraining hand on his chest. Thor smiled at him thinly. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, brother,” he said, entirely deadpan. “However did this happen?”

“Wuh?” Loki said, dripping and blinking dazedly.

“Here, let me help you.” 

Thor scraped sodden tangles of hair from Loki’s eyes and pushed them messily aside. Then he hooked his hands beneath both of Loki’s arms and hauled him further up the bed, propping him against the wall there.

Loki endured all of this without a single objection.

Thor thrust a filled cup of water at Loki’s chest. “Here,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “Drink.”

Loki frowned down the cup in confusion, but raised a hand woozily towards it. Thor helped him wrap his fingers around it and guided it to his mouth. When Loki registered the action he locked his arm still with a noise of protest.

“It’s just water,” Thor told him crossly, and with a little more force was able to overpower Loki’s resistance.

Loki took a gulp and made a face.

“All of it,” Thor said darkly. Loki obeyed.

Thor took the cup away and went to refill the pitcher. He returned intending to press another cupful on his brother, but relented when he saw how peaky Loki was beginning to appear. Instead he sank down next to him at a right angle on the bed.

“You should know better than to engage Valkyrie in a drinking contest.”

Loki did not reply to this. A full body shudder snapped water droplets from the ends of his hair. He looked rather pitiful, slumped and dripping as he was, and despite himself Thor felt a small twinge of guilt. Annoyed with himself, he shoved it roughly away.

He reached a hand to tug at Loki’s collar, intending to make a start on the fastenings there. When he noticed this, Loki turned wide eyes on him and made an uncoordinated attempt to clutch at his arm. The result was a feeble scrabble of fingers that Thor easily swatted aside.

“Stop that,” he admonished, leaning closer. Loki continued to try to pull himself free. “Loki, what are you… I’m trying to help you!”

On the third attempt Thor managed to release the first set of clasps and begin peeling the sodden leather away, only for Loki to wrench away with more force.

“N-- no,” he protested weakly as he did so, shrinking back from Thor’s hands.

Thor stilled completely, an unwelcome and cold weight settling in his stomach. 

“Loki,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Brother. It is only me.”

Loki stared up at him for a long moment, a frown forming between unfocused eyes. He blinked heavily. “Thor.”

“Yes. You are unwell. But I am here. Will you let me help you?”

A breath released from Loki as recognition chased the fear from his face. With a look of relief so raw that Thor almost had to avert his eyes, he gave a jerky nod.

Thor resumed his work, more slowly this time, hands moving steadily along each seam and buckle and loosening as they went. He tried to ignore the way Loki gazed at his face as he worked, his ears heating under such unguarded scrutiny. He was unlacing the layer beneath when Loki spoke his name again.

“Thor.” It was slurred but not uncertain, the beginning of more to come. It was also a request for verbal acknowledgement, not unlike the way a much younger Loki would demand the assurance of his brother’s full attention before imparting words of significance; a childhood habit lost many years ago. 

“Yes.”

Thor watched Loki from the corner of his eye as he opened his mouth again to speak, then seemed to lose his words. He tried a second time and once again stopped, a frown forming instead.

Feeling something of a coward for shying from the earnest expression on Loki’s face, Thor kept his attention on the practicalities ahead of them. He had accomplished as much as he would be able without encouraging Loki to stand, and if that meant he would be able to hide from the unintended vulnerability he had just had to witness so much the better.

“Let’s get you out of this leather, shall we?” he suggested gently.

Loki allowed his legs to be slid back over the side of the bed and for Thor to lift him up onto his feet. He clamped his hands on Thor’s shoulders to retain his balance, swaying further into him as he was required to shift position. He was in no condition to stand on his own, and after a moment his arms folded loose and heavy against Thor’s frame. 

This was going to be more challenging than Thor had first imagined.

Thor propped him awkwardly against his own body as he first addressed the (admittedly ill-advised) mess he’d created of the bed. He stripped back the sodden bedclothes with one hand, required to bend awkwardly to reach and tug all the bedding free. He piled what he could gather on the floor, satisfied that the worst of the damp would at least be removed. 

When he had finally succeeded and straightened, the movement tipped Loki forward into him. Thor grasped at him to steady him, and Loki responded by winding his arms under Thor’s biceps and hooking both hands over his shoulders. He leaned in with all his weight, his fingers clutching tight and his cheek pressed to the pulse at Thor’s neck. 

Stunned for a moment, Thor raised his hands to give Loki’s shoulderblades a couple of awkward pats. “Right. Okay.” Loki released a tired sigh and cinched his hold just slightly.

This… This was unexpected.

“Um, Loki?” Thor began, not at all certain what he was going to say.

“Hmm?” his brother replied distantly, not moving to relinquish his hold.

At almost any other time, Thor’s instinct would be to tease. He knew well that his brother would not have initiated such contact were he in his right mind, nor requested comfort of any kind. There was a wrongness to this, an awkwardness that prompted Thor first to pull away, then to make light of it to ease his own discomfiture.

But it was difficult not to respond to Loki’s easy familiarity, something Thor had craved for many years and thought never to see again. Even if this wasn’t real, even if it was something Loki would rather die than repeat, no small part of Thor rejoiced to soak it in.

Moving slowly, almost afraid to break the spell, Thor wrapped one arm more securely around Loki’s back. He allowed his eye to slip closed, raising a hand to cradle the back of Loki’s head. He let his own rest against his brother’s and breathed deep, scenes of tender boyhood intimacies inspired in his mind’s eye by the scent of Loki’s hair and the warmth of his body so close. 

When last had they done this? How many years had it been since they had so openly shown affection, unhindered by false pride, their distance of recent years, or simply an adolescent aversion to displays of intimacy? Of the two of them, Thor had always been the most tactile of the pair, usually the one to initiate a clasp of shoulders for a battle well fought, a boisterous imposed closeness when joining his brother to share a bench, a meeting of foreheads to commiserate and calm. And yet he had found himself withdrawing these touches, taking his cues from his brother, uncertain of welcome and leery of rejection, until it became as second nature to remain aloof, as standoffish as his brother, ever reserved and unapproachable for it.

He resolved in that moment to reclaim these lost moments, to seek to repair the distance that had crept between them. He would begin small -- a casual brush of shoulders where he could, an offer of contact when appropriate -- but he would reach out. He would have this again for them both.

Loki made a small movement, his face burrowing into Thor’s shoulder just that bit more. An easy warmth expanded in Thor’s chest and up his throat, inspiring the beginnings of a smile.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” he chuckled a little sadly.

“Mmm.”

Loathe as he was to pull away, Thor could feel his brother’s deepening breaths, his weight beginning to pull at Thor’s arms more insistently. 

“Come on,” he said somewhat reluctantly, stepping back to create a sliver of chill space between them. 

It was difficult to extract Loki from his bulky outer garments without releasing him to fall, and he required prompting and occasional manhandling to thread limbs through sleeves and openings. Thor judged his undershirt and leggings to be dry enough to suffice, and once divested of all other layers allowed Loki to sink back down to the bed.

Thor crouched in front of him, a hand at his collarbone to keep him somewhat upright. With the other he fetched more water, again guiding the cup when it looked as though Loki would not do this for himself.

A tentative knock at the cabin’s door made Thor startle, and Loki fumbled the cup with a slight choke. 

“Sorry,” Thor murmured, removing it before more could spill. He turned his head to speak over his shoulder. “Return tomorrow, if you would,” he called as patiently as he could manage.

Instead of leaving, the visitor knocked again, a timid voice following. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” came the voice. “I have been sent with food?” 

Ah. Perhaps there was hope for the Valkyrie yet.

Steadying Loki with a final squeeze to his upper arms, Thor let his hands fall away. When Loki didn’t immediately fall forward, he offered him a lopsided smile. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

The child in the corridor outside gazed up at Thor with eyes like saucers. She had clearly expected to be summoned inside to deliver her burden as a servant would; the spectacle of her king receiving her at the entrance, body positioned to block her view into the room beyond, was one she was not prepared for.

Thor took the plate from her hands with a kind smile. “Thank you.”

The girl gulped at him, at a loss for words, then quickly retreated away. It was a manner of reception he was receiving less and less as time went by, but he had work to do yet before he could walk among his people without the unsettling mix of awe and hushed reverence held by the very young. It reminded him too keenly of a time he would have seen little of the ordinary folk of Asgard and cared not a bit for the lack.

The fare he had been brought was plain and simple but as hearty a meal as any could want. Choosing a wedge of bread and leaving the rest to one side, Thor took a seat at Loki’s side, nudging him with his shoulder to rouse his waning attention.

“Here,” he offered, ripping off a piece and placing it in Loki’s fingers. “The galley’s finest.”

He was not surprised when Loki did nothing more than hold the food in his hand and for the moment felt disinclined to press the point. Instead he took a bite of his own and chewed pensively, his thoughts turning inward. 

“I am not sure I know how to do this, brother,” he eventually admitted quietly. 

The words came easily with only the four walls to judge. Or at least, four walls and an audience he was confident would remember little of them the following morning.

He had been carrying this for some time, hiding it, ashamed of it. The fear that now that it came to it, he was woefully unprepared; the pressure of responsibility bearing down on him, with only a record of failure and misfortune to his name; an inheritance of dark family secrets as his foundation, the pride and faith of his people broken and bruised, a collection of damaged remnants his advisors and support. Hardly an auspicious start to a reign long anticipated.

Loki shifted at his side, his knee moving to bump against Thor’s own. For all that he appeared not to be listening, he was evidently following his brother’s words.

“Make a… good king,” Loki said to him with the pure conviction of the intoxicated, and though it was quiet and halting it held a power over Thor that almost overwhelmed his rapidly thinning defences.

“There was a time not so long ago that you would have sworn otherwise,” he couldn’t help but recall, the words coming thick despite his best efforts. 

Loki tsked and shoved at Thor’s shoulder. “Stupid,” he mumbled as he did so, although whether he intended the word as a comment on Thor’s thought process or as an insult in more general terms Thor wasn’t certain. 

Thor examined his hands where they hung between his knees. Beside him, Loki absently took a mouthful of bread. If he didn’t look at him as he spoke, Thor could perhaps get his words out, could articulate this painful knot of doubt and anxiety tangled inside of him. 

“I think I just... What if I get this wrong? There is so much to do, so much at stake. It is like nothing I ever imagined when I pictured myself leading. I don’t know why I ever thought I wanted this.”

Now that he had allowed himself to say this out loud, it was as though he’d given the feelings life. Made them real. The desolation and the fear, it rose up inside of him, refusing to be ignored. He laced his fingers together and squeezed them, the force just enough to push back the worst of the flood. Loki shifted around beside him and levelled an unsteady yet forthright look at the side of his downturned face.

“Trust you,” he said simply, as though it was as easy as that. As though that was the full of it, as though that faith alone could be enough. And in that instant, with Loki’s presence beside him, still there and trusting and for once so _open_ , perhaps… perhaps it was.

Something fluttered strangely behind Thor’s ribs, and when he turned his head to meet his brother’s eyes he felt the flood start to recede. “I should get you drunk more often,” he teased lightly, feeling peculiar in a tremulous sort of way.

“‘M not,” Loki insisted, listing towards Thor’s side. He let his forehead fall to rest against Thor’s shoulder and Thor allowed a weak chuckle to break free. 

“Tell me, Loki,” Thor said, buoyed by the returning levity and Loki’s unguarded responses. “Truly, why did you come back?”

Loki pulled back to look at Thor again, and Thor was required to brace him with a steadying hand. The smile Loki produced wrinkled his nose endearingly. Thor smiled back, amused, even if not quite in on the joke, and Loki fell back towards him with a chuff of laughter and the thump of an uncoordinated fist to his upper arm. “Know why,” Loki said earnestly into Thor’s chest.

The easy humour deserted Thor all at once, replaced by a lump in his throat that he began to have trouble swallowing around. What had begun as a playful enquiry was starting to feel a little like intrusion, but Thor found himself unable to turn back.

“I’d like to hear it from you anyway,” he said, his arm coming around to hold Loki to him.

“Not allowed… to leave _me_ ,” Loki huffed without censure.

Thor gripped his brother a little tighter. 

“Does this mean you’re planning on staying, then?”

Loki made a vague _hmm_ sound and slumped further forward into Thor’s arms.

“Loki?”

There was no further response.

If Loki remembered any of this in the morning, Thor was likely in for a light stabbing.

~~~

Thor’s attention was drawn from his papers by a sound of misery from the direction of the bed. The back of his neck ached and his eye felt gritty from a sleepless night’s vigil, but he had achieved much with the time. 

He watched from a distance as the top of Loki’s head emerged sluggishly from a nest of Thor’s blankets. He turned over a bit at a time, clearly favouring a ferocious headache, and snaked an arm out into the open. Eyes squeezed shut as they were, his flailing hand missed his goal the first two times. On the third he captured the cup on the table beside the bed and choked down the contents with alarming speed. 

When he was done Loki let the empty vessel drop and draped his hand across his eyes. The groan he produced spoke of suffering the likes of which Thor had experienced on more than one occasion himself.

“Feeling better?” Thor asked with a grin he made no effort to hide.

Thor saw it register in the way Loki froze, his fingers separating to allow him to wince in the direction of his brother. Thor tossed him an unrepentant wave.

Loki shrank back down where he lay and moved to pull the covers back over his head.

“If you’re ill on my blankets I will leave you to soak in them,” Thor told him.

“Your concern is touching,” Loki grumbled tightly, muffled by the layers, though he did not emerge again.

Relenting, Thor moved to his side, ignoring his indignant whine and drawing the blanket back again. “Here,” he said, holding the vial where Loki would see it. “This will help.”

Loki squinted at it, closed his eyes again and allowed Thor to help him sit up. He made no complaint about the bitter taste when he took the draft but offered no thanks either. The poorly disguised way he went about avoiding Thor’s eye suggested it was more than just the over-bright light of the room troubling him. Feeling merciful, Thor did not comment on it.

“Do not think this absolves you,” Thor warned him with good-natured menace. “I intend to hold this against you for at least a week, if not more.” 

Thor imagined that if the process hadn’t promised to be agonising, Loki would have rolled his eyes at him. As it was he simply scowled, the expression morphing into one of miserable discomfort soon after.

Thor allowed an indulgent smile and squeezed the back of Loki's neck.

“You never did tell me. What wager did you lose?” He should have asked before, when he had a chance of a truthful answer.

Yet Loki surprised him, perhaps too out of sorts to formulate his usual prevarications, or perhaps seeing no reason to withhold an explanation owed with all he had already revealed. “I assured the Valkyrie I would be gone within the month.”

Thor’s smiled widened. “And yet here you are.” 

“Apparently.”

Sensing his brother’s growing unease and taking pity on him while he was not at his best, Thor moved to rise. “Try to sleep,” he said. “We will talk more later.”

He turned to leave, intending to give Loki the room and go in search of refreshment. A hand on his wrist halted his progress, and he looked back to see something unreadable in Loki's expression.

“Stay?” Loki asked him in a small voice, and with an answering flush of warmth that spread from somewhere deep in his chest, Thor turned back to do just that.


End file.
